Sep
04
2012
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Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He’s a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It’s the goof of all time. Look but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste, don’t swallow. Ahaha. And while you’re jumpin’ from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He’s laughin’ His sick, fuckin’ ass off! I’m a fan of man! I’m a humanist. Maybe the last humanist. John Milton ~ ...
My Room with a ViewIts dark, its night, its cold outside,each window shines a different light.A different hue, a different shadow,a different view.Sometimes I see a couple embrace,sometimes I see children fight,I fantasize about each facethe looks of anger, of love or fright.I see the old woman in the rocking chairrock backwards and forwards with heartfelt care;for the outline of the wrinkles on her faceshow toils and troubles that have gracedher tired worn body that life has etched,like a charcoal drawing on a canvas sketched.I look down below and I seethe red brake lights of a car, a family.Mother, father, child, and baby,all together, at once a symphonyof voices that giggle and chatteras they tumble in the car, nothing matters.I look at the stars in the navy skythe flickering of wishes of hearts that cry,and place their dreams and hopes up nigh,to heaven and the angels that are always there,to carry our cares on wings of prayer.There are cackles of laughter on the streeta momentous occasion, must have been a feast.Parties of merry voices drudge by,a glass of bubbly that has run dry.Arm and arm they bid goodnightand it is still again and there are fewer lights.As the evening becomes morningI soon realizethat I’m the only person awakeas the new day is dawning.Night as become lightand my eyes draw closedIts time for bedtime, I suppose.Margaret Purslow ...
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Interviewer – First, I should thank you for taking the time to do this interview. MH~ Sure slick, my life is an open book so shoot! Interviewer – Okay, well first, can you state your name for the record? MH~ Marques Haven. Interviewer – Has that always been your name? MH~ Next question. Interviewer – I thought you said your life was an open book? MH~ I did. Interviewer – Then why won’t you answer the question? MH~ My life is an open book, whether or not you can read what’s on the page is completely up to you. Interviewer – Okay , well I guess I should just move on to the next question. MH~ Like I said slick… shoot! Interviewer - Not to get off topic but I have to tell you – everyone says that you and I look so much alike. Do you agree? MH~ I think the more correct statement would be you look more like me – not vice versa. But sure slick, you favor me a bit. Interviewer – How do you feel about love? MH~ I feel it exists. Interviewer – That’s not a feeling, that’s more a statement. MH~ No one can accuse you of being slow… keep it moving slick! Interviewer – Okay, why photography? MH~ Why not? Interviewer – Are you going to answer the question? MH~ I just did. Interviewer – If you were going to give someone advice about being a photographer what would you say? MH~ The picture behind you is probably a lot better than the one in front of you. I think the more correct statement would be you look more like me – not vice versa. But sure slick, you favor me a bit. Interviewer – What moves you? MH~ Cars, trains, planes and occasionally a strong northerly wind. Interview – That’s it? Let me restate the question – who moves you? MH~ Those I pray about. Interviewer – And who would they be? MH~ I just told you… next question slick; it’s cold out here. Interviewer – What photographers do you admire? MH~ Bob Carlos Clarke. Interviewer – Why him? MH ~ Because he was tortured and it came out in his work. The man was genius behind a lens. Interviewer – Anyone else? MH~ Sure, Margarete Almeida, Rafa Olivares, and Charlotte Lucca… just to name a few. But there are so many photographers whose work I admire, I would be out here all day naming them all and it’s too fucking cold for that. I will just say I am humbled by their work. Interviewer - You cursed, do you typically use bad language? MH~ Only when I am fucking annoyed! Interviewer – Okay, well I don’t want to take too much of your time. MH~ You already have. Interviewer – Last question, what’s next for you? MH~ I don’t understand the question. Interviewer – I mean, what’s the next phase in your life… your hitting the big 4-0 soon. Where do you see yourself a year from now? MH~ Not here with you. Interviewer – No really, please answer the question. MH~ This interview is over! Interviewer – Just like that! But I have more questions. MH~ Like I said before, no one can accuse you of being...
My dad had a subscription to Time Magazine and the National Geographic. I can remember being blown away by the images contained within the pages of those magazines - their beauty as well as the utter rawness they displayed. Those images (pictures) had the ability to rip the viewer from the safety of their own reality and pull them, at times unwillingly, into the someone's else's world. The truth they invoked was undeniable. The December 04, 1978 Time Magazine cover “Cult of Death” by photographer David Hume Kennerly forever affected me. I was eight. Sure, the mass suicide of some 900 plus people was horrific at its core, but that’s not what moved me. I was amazed at Kennerly’s ability to walk among the lifeless bodies of those who leaped willing into the afterlife on the words of the false prophet James Warren, a.k.a, Jim Jones, the founder of the Peoples Temple in Jonestown, Guyana - all the while snapping pictures. Needless to say, I’m sure that experience haunted, chased, Kennerly for the rest of his existence. Seeing those images made me wanted to be him. I wanted to be the person who went head-first into the abyss documenting life’s events – the ugly and the beautiful. That issue of Time Magazine, the images of that event, an event absent of God mind you, gave birth to my hunger to be a photographer. Admittedly, my life took a different path but my hunger for photographer never subsided – in fact, it burns as deep now as it did back then. Marques Haven ~ Above Shots: “Wet Streets” – Taken in Rome, Italy “Lights of Boston” – Taken at Copley Square in Boston Massachusetts ...
